


a shiver of your shine

by yonnna



Category: Baccano!
Genre: M/M, References to Major Character Death, he's also kind of a dick, huey is uncertain of how to approach human contact pt. 2, spoilers - 1710
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonnna/pseuds/yonnna
Summary: Written for the prompt "Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better"





	a shiver of your shine

His fingertips trace his skin idle, and somehow he is surprised to find that anything moves beneath. Blood through his veins — a pulse — quick, racing _thuds_ , a stutter then a downbeat. He imagines his heartbeat follows a straight line, unchanging as he is, but it does not drum steady with his hand at his neck; he imagines his touch cold and artificial, but it is human warmth which wraps around him. He imagines him hollow like the timbre of his laugh, empty like the gleam of his smile, but he is solid enough when he presses against him, his body unflinching and his hands and mouth responsive. He is solid enough that the longing is to prove himself wrong, to taste something of substance on his lips. To _find_ something of substance — in this moment — in _him_.

It is urgent — the longing, and the kiss. It is grasping and pulling, and he cannot tell whether Elmer is smiling against him because he only feels it in the abstract. It is the impression of contact, the impression of _heat_. It is sensation without context; sparks igniting at his lips but dying dull, settling as ashes in his chest. It is a fleeting fire in a sea of darkness and he revives it and revives it until the arm at his back reminds him that it exists to hold him back from the flames. Elmer tugs on his shirt, gently, and he breaks away.

“Let me guess: I should smile?” His breaths come out heavy despite his best efforts. Elmer hardly seems to breathe at all.

“No — well, that too, but it’s more,” — he glances down, and lets out a short laugh — “That kind of hurts.”

He follows his gaze to the outline of his hand at the base of his neck, knuckles white and nails scraping red marks into his skin. He cannot seem to feel it now — not the tremor of his fingers, not the warmth under them. He is _still_ , and separate from the desperate clawing of his need, too numbed to navigate his own body.

“You didn’t get what you needed out of that, did you?”

The dusk makes his face honest. The fading sun casts its glow on the creased edges of his smile, and his eyes are shadows wreathed with darker shadows; when he looks at him the line of his mouth flickers like a flame deprived of oxygen, then reignites, but none of the shine is his. His brightness is pale, somehow; _bright_ but in a lackluster way. His lips are upturned with joy that does not exist yet. It is wanting. _He_ is wanting, and the muted light betrays this.

But then, there is something wanting in Huey, too.

“I…” he starts. His hand steadies, and he drops it to his side.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended or anything,” he says, grinning so easily it is almost _mocking_. “I didn’t really _think_ that’d make you smile, but I figured if it wasn’t worth stopping you.”

He looks at him for a long moment, and Huey forces his face into a more cordial expression on instinct, willing the scrutiny as far away from him as possible. Elmer’s smile almost drops.

“Hey, Huey? What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” he hears himself say. His shoulders lift into a shrug. “Do what you want, Elmer.”

“Okay. I _want_ to make you feel better, so I’m doing that. Should I leave?”

He thinks _yes_ , but shakes his head. The closeness is at once familiar and dissonant.

“Listen, if I could be more like Monica for you, I —”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he sighs, but grins dry amusement in an effort to dismiss the ache. “The only person I want you to be is yourself, Elmer.”

“Okay, great! That’s great! I can be _me_ no problem. That’s easy! So, could you just…” he rambles, and his hand moves from Huey’s back to fly aside in gesture. “What do I have to do for you to stop smiling at me like that?”

He snorts.

“You want me to show you a real smile?”

“Right now? I’d take a real _frown_.”

Huey snaps his mouth shut, retort stuck at the back of his throat.

“You know, I’ve heard sometimes a good cry is all it takes to be happy again!”

“If only anything else in life were as simple as _you_ are.”

Elmer doesn’t even blink.

“I get it. I’m an idiot. That’s fine! You’re angry. That’s fine, too. Be angry, if that means you can be happy after that. You can punch me, if you want. If it’ll help.”

He is still close enough that he can hear the intake of air between phrases. He is solid and human, and none of this matters the way it should.

“Or whatever you need to do. You can kiss me again. You can — you can say something. Hey, Huey, could you say something?”

He takes the first invitation over the second, stifles Elmer’s endless offerings by covering his mouth with a kiss.

— Then he leans back on the palms of his hands, gives himself room to turn his face away.

“To answer your first question,” he says, standing stiffly and smiling wryly. “No, I did not ‘get what I needed’ out of that.”


End file.
